He had to hurry back to the clinic before Mr. Darcy got wind of what had happened. The White Dragons boss would send enough thugs to comb the city. The clinic was close but Randai hoped he would get there long before they did. He pushed off the stinking disposal unit and stumbled a few steps before adjusting to the dizziness. When the sensation had passed, he broke into a slow jog, gritting his teeth and willing away the pain.
Randai found the new sense of purpose alien yet refreshing. A long list of tasks unfurled before him, starting with the visit to Doctor Kira’s clinic…If he didn’t bleed out first.
8
Stay Strong
Alarms whined, and air whistled as the hangar vented atmosphere. Litter danced in the maelstrom as Grimshaw lay on the ground looking up at Eline. Her arms and legs trembled as she bore the support beam across her shoulders.
“Move…you idiot,” she hissed.
He rolled from under the beam as more debris rained down, burying the Aegis.
A bedraggled maintenance tech pulled Grimshaw clear of the falling rubble and they fell against Stork Charlie.
“Thank you, Officer,” he said, eyeing the split high on the hangar bulkhead. The Bakura must have taken significant damage on her starboard side for it to show so close to her underbelly. Grimshaw was glad he’d activated his helmet in time.
“We’re about to hit atmosphere, sir.” The maintenance tech’s voice quivered.
“We’ll have to dig her out quick then.” He watched the threatening section of swinging ceiling the fallen support beam had been holding up. “Watch out for more debris.”
“Yes, sir.”
They hauled a hefty chunk of steel out of the way when the bulk of the rubble began to shift on its own. It parted to reveal Aegis Eline.
She climbed out of the jumble holding her shoulder but otherwise seemed unharmed.
“Are you okay?” Grimshaw tried not to sound too amazed.
She put out a hand, dismissing his offer of help. “I just had several tons of metal fall on top of me. Do I look okay?” She brushed past him and made her way to the Stork.
“Better board the boat, Officer,” Grimshaw told the tech.
“Yes, sir.” He nodded and without a word followed them into the drop-ship.
The armored doors whined shut behind them, and red lights cast a foreboding glow into the cabin.
Grimshaw joined Eline in the command bay at the head of the drop lines and strapped in. His harness clasps locked together just in time, for the drop-ship shook with such force that he thought the restraints might give.
As soon as the turbulence stopped, he keyed a command into his SIG, and the crash cages lowered into place.
Four rows of armed troops, mostly cadets, stretched out before him. A row of thirteen stations lined both walls, and two back-to-back rows of twelve ran down the center of the cabin. The few empty spaces were a welcome sight.
“System’s report.” His SIG and TEK computer integrated with the Bakura’s systems, and ghost-like streams of data flashed past his visor. “How are we doing with the bridge comms, Lieutenant Dann?”
“We’ve managed to connect back into the Bakura’s systems, but bridge comms are still a work in progress, Commander.”
“Good job. Let me know when you have something on the bridge.”
“Sure will, sir.”
Grimshaw summoned the Bakura’s stats in his visor’s VD and noted how dangerously low primary shields were. Two decks had already lost life-support. That only eight people were unaccounted for was nothing short of a miracle. He hid the ship data window and surveyed the cabin.
The nearest cadets wore determined expressions. They may not have had much experience, but they were good kids with plenty of spirit. They held it together despite the threat of death.
He accessed his VD again and navigated to personnel vitals. Pulse, temperature, and respiration varied wildly but were well within tolerances across the board. Blood pressure was also within acceptable parameters. Grimshaw was particularly impressed by the cadet squad leaders. He pinned their index numbers for closer analysis when it came to the mission report…if there would be a mission report.
Of course, there’ll be a report.
A cursory glance showed that Storks Alpha, Beta, and Delta boasted similar readings, though on average, Stork Charlie rated slightly higher. Grimshaw put the difference down to having an Aegis on Stork Charlie. The Aegi were legendary, and news of what Eline had pulled off in the hangar had no doubt already spread through the cabin.
Grimshaw still found it hard to believe what he had just seen. He had always considered the stories exaggerated lore at best, and Eline had challenged those preconceptions.
Stork Charlie rocked, and a red warning flashed in Grimshaw’s visor. The bridge separation sequence had started. “Shit,” he muttered into the silence of his helmet. The Bakura was designed to eject her bridge in the event of an imminent core breach or when too many primary systems had failed. If the bridge detached too soon, however, the rest of the ship could spin off course or burn up in the atmosphere.
A secure channel from the Stork’s cockpit opened in his VD.
“Bakura’s entering the atmosphere, Commander.” Lieutenant Dann, the squad leader and Stork Charlie’s pilot, sounded remarkably calm all things considered.
“How soon before we deploy, Lieutenant?”
“Four minutes according to the most recent projections, sir. Bastards on the bridge better hold back the detachment, or we’re toast.”
“You read my thoughts,” Grimshaw said. The red alarm in his visor turned orange.
“Looks like someone’s watching out for us.” Dann laughed heartily. “Pray they’ve bought us enough time.”
“I’m not a man of God, Lieutenant, but times like these do make me wonder.”
“They do, aye.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
The Stork rocked again, and a list of affected systems streamed down Grimshaw’s VD. A blue warning replaced the status list suddenly, informing him that communications with the bridge had been restored.
“Stork Charlie to the bridge,” he tried.
Low static answered before the bridge connection turned red and started flashing. Grimshaw no longer received ship-wide data either, his readings limited to his drop-ship.
A violent shudder tore through the cabin as the Bakura decelerated hard. She was likely a sitting duck, slowing while taking heavy fire. Multiple bangs pounded above them as something struck the Stork’s roof.
Grimshaw turned his attention back to the local stats and found them higher than before. The hull was still intact, but several life-signs bordered on dangerous as cadets began to lose it.
Eline spoke to him on the vox. “It’s a hell of a ride.” Devilish fangs flashed inside her dark helmet as she shot him a smile.
He nodded in response.
“Maybe you should say something.” She tilted her head toward the drop-lines. “For the cadets.”
In his years of service, Grimshaw had served under his share of charismatic leaders. One Marine Commander in particular sprang to mind, and he smiled. Sergeant Richards—better known to his squad as the North Star—knew how to inspire. Since becoming a Commander, Grimshaw had delivered speeches, but nothing had come close to Sergeant Richards. Grimshaw’s mood turned as he remembered his old squad. He decided to accept Eline’s advice even if only to avoid the dark places to which those thoughts led.
“Good idea, Aegis,” he said on the private channel.
“Attention, people! Your Commander has something to say,” she announced over the open vox.
The cadets turned their attention on Grimshaw as he cleared his throat. “You’ve read the briefing. We’ll drop on Colony 115, north of Targos City, near the Confederation strip outside Sector Eight. We’ll secure the area and provide cover for the Aegi as they gather intelligence. Our mission is to escort them to Xerocorp Labs in the city cente
r. For many of you, this will be your first fight. We don’t know what’s down there, but chances are we have a long road ahead of us. Things will no doubt get tough, but we’ll show these bastards hell.”
A handful raised their voices in agreement.
Grimshaw raised his own voice. “We’ll show them what happens when someone messes with the Confederation Fleet.”
A cheer with much more heart swept through the cabin.
“Stay strong!” he shouted.
Several cadets repeated the words, and they spread through the drop-ship, growing into a chant.
“You’re no Abraham Lincoln,” Eline said on the private channel. “But it did the job.”
Grimshaw cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve studied Earth history.”
“Shanti study all race home-worlds as children. We believe in understanding...possible threats.”
It was a poor attempt at diplomacy, but Grimshaw appreciated the intended compliment.
The drop-ship rocked more violently than it had before, and the chants turned to crackled cries and shrieks.
Lieutenant Dann sounded in Grimshaw’s helmet again. “The Bakura hasn’t slowed enough, sir, but she’s just passed the optimal drop altitude. It’s now or never.”
“Now!”
Grimshaw’s stomach lurched and his body drove against his restraints.
Shafts of light appeared to the rear of the ship.
Grimshaw’s sensors warned about hull breaches. A quick glance at the stats showed three flatlined life-signals. Two others appeared critical. Nothing could be done until the Stork hit the ground. And even then…
“Stay strong!” Grimshaw roared into the open channel, for his own benefit as much as anything else.
The Stork spun wildly, and the array of flashing lights in his visor melted into a blurred rainbow. Grimshaw suspected that whether they landed in one piece or not, he’d signed the death warrants of all those on board. They spun through oblivion, a can of fresh meat tossed to the dogs.
“Stay…strong!”
9
Eyes Closed
Clio was fusing a power coupling at a bridge terminal when the Bakura exited S-Gate Horizon. The next thing she knew, critical alert alarms were blaring through the ship’s comms system. Clio strapped herself in at a free station on the bridge’s lower tier amidst the systems and intelligence teams. From there, things spiraled into chaos.
The force of enemy fire flung her against her seat’s safety harness so hard she feared it might snap.
“Third drop-ship deployed,” Lieutenant Commander Gargan shouted. “Hold her steady, Parker. I don’t know how long I can hold off the bridge detachment sequence. Defense, where are we with those guns?”
“I think I’ve finally got a lock, sir.” Weapons Officer Jarris’s voice rattled with the ship.
“Then what are you waiting for? Return fire. All aft canons!”
“It’s no good, sir, the targeting systems just can’t keep up with their movements. I’ll take manual control, but the best I can do is provide a wide spread.”
“Do what you have to,” the Lieutenant Commander yelled. “Enemy vessel still closing. They must be insane, traveling so fast in the atmosphere. Parker, what can you do about speed?”
“We’re already over the deceleration threshold, sir. Any faster and we lose the remaining drop-ship. We’ll hit cloud cover soon,” Parker called, her voice strained.
“Shields at thirteen percent, sir,” Jarris said. “Hull breaches have doubled. We’ll break up if we take any more.”
“Divert power from weapons if you have to!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Getting readings from Targos,” Lieutenant Commander Gargan said. “Looks like the city has taken heavy damage.”
“Reading data, sir,” Parker said. “The strip’s gone. Searching for another suitable landing area.”
“Stay on course, Parker. We’ll be lucky to land at all,” Gargan pointed out. “Head for the north of the city if you can.”
Clio enlarged the image of the enemy ship on her station’s VD. It closed in on them like a winged predator, claws retracted, ready to attack. Blue lightning cracked down on them, and the bridge shook.
“Systems report,” the Lieutenant Commander ordered.
“An intense discharge, sir,” Jarris answered. “Like the energy that hit the Goliath. It dropped aft shields to three percent. All primary systems failing.”
“How the hell? Do something! Divert more power!”
As a flight crew reserve, Clio could only watch on as things unfolded. Suddenly it occurred to her that the enemy attacking was exactly the kind of distraction she’d been waiting for.
She quickly ensured everyone nearby was preoccupied and slipped the data crystal from under her artificial fingernail. She inserted it into the station terminal and opened a channel to the Bakura’s data banks. The security protocols were just as Clio remembered. The ship’s computer wrote new lines fast, but her program’s security subversion routine worked faster. Within seconds she had full access to the main data core.
Fingers dancing on the control panel, she located the encrypted communications logs her mysterious contact had requested and started the download. Clio couldn’t see what use those entries could be to anyone, but all that mattered was the promised reward.
The data copied slower than she would have liked, due to rerouted power, but there was nothing she could do other than hide the progress window, though all nearby personnel were buried in their terminals, struggling to improve the ship’s chances of reaching the surface.
Sparks exploded from the ceiling, and the acrid stench of burning chemicals filled the air.
“Primary shields down, structural integrity failing,” Jarris shouted over the noise.
“We need more time! Somebody put out that damn fire! Parker, how far?”
“Hitting cloud cover!”
Clio fought against her harness and anxiously checked the progress window. The download had only loaded half way, and she almost laughed at the futility of wishing for it to go faster.
We’re all about to become corpses falling through the sky anyway.
The Bakura heaved and rolled. Clio ducked her head as debris peppered her from all directions. Another explosion erupted nearby, and more smoke stung her lungs. She looked from under her right arm. A flaming wound had replaced a nearby terminal and its occupant.
“Power surges,” someone shouted…possibly Gargan in the command hub.
Two officers appeared from the cloying smoke and sprayed the flames with foam. The ship lurched again and threw them across the deck.
An extinguisher spun free and clipped Clio above the ear. Shouts and screams merged with the din of the dying ship, the ringing in Clio’s head all but deafening as the bridge rotated about her head.
Have we gone into a spin? She fought to control her breathing, hot smoke burning her nostrils, and forced herself out of the daze. Clio prodded where the extinguisher had struck, and her fingers came away slick with blood. Panicked, she checked again and was relived to feel a superficial cut, even if it did hurt like hell. A cloud of smoke descended, and she broke into a fit of coughs.
Clio heard her name being called but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. She listened carefully and realized it was Lieutenant Commander Gargan.
“Officer Evans! I said get your ass in that pilot’s chair!”
As she unharnessed herself, Clio remembered the data crystal and flicked the screen to find the download had finished. She quickly clipped the crystal back under her fingernail and stumbled to the steps leading up to the flight tier.
Her legs wobbled, and she grabbed hold of a rail just as the bridge fell away from under her. Clio dragged her body up the metal steps, pulling with all she had. The Bakura righted itself long enough for her to launch for the pilot terminal.
The navigator and co-pilot were nowhere to be seen and Ensign Parker, or what was left of her, hung sideways in her
chair, flight helmet still secured to her remains. Both of the pilot’s arms were missing and something had sliced through her chest, almost cutting her in two.
Configuring another station for full-flight control will take too long. She set about relieving Parker of her helmet and untangling her body from the chair. She unclipped the harnesses that cut into the hideous wound. Clio fumbled with Parker’s slippery corpse and ignored how it twisted abnormally as it slopped onto the deck.
Clio strapped herself in, telling herself the warm fluids soaking into her pants didn’t once belong inside a person.
Gargan barked orders, but Clio blocked everything out as she focused entirely on getting the Bakura down. If she couldn’t do that, everything else would have been for nothing: surviving life on the streets of Dunmarra, clawing her way out of incarceration and onto a Fleet ship, putting up with the Confederation, stealing the data that would finally see her free.
Clio fitted the flight helmet. Lasers etched the ship’s trajectory onto her eyes. A wave of nausea almost overwhelmed her as her mind adjusted. She had flown numerous vessels, but the Bakura’s flight crew had continually ignored her requests for live training.
Clio told herself it was just another simulation and forced her eyes to focus. She had flown the Colony 115 scenario over a thousand times, yet everything felt foreign. Besides the chaos, something about sitting in the actual chair was different. Why did I think it would be so easy? Her heart pounded, and her pulse raced.
“My terminal’s busted. Someone, give me a damn status reading!” Gargan screamed. “Evans, take control of the fucking ship!”
“Secondary shields failing. She’ll come apart.” Weapons Officer Jarris shouted. “The core containment field is going—”
The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure Page 6